


Servant's Will

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashing, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Talon Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Implied Genji/Zenyatta* Zenyatta will never, ever, give up on Genji -even when in front of him stands a killer who refuses to answer to that name.





	Servant's Will

**Servant's Will**

 

The message is short –a string of numbers –coordinates–, a date, and a single phrase. _He will be there._

When Zenyatta leaves, no one asks questions; they simply think he is following some lead, tireless as usual. They don’t know he has help, though maybe, some of them suspect. Jesse watches him go, makes to follow, then thinks better of it, shoulders falling as he turns away.

They dance a careful, hesitant dance, moving in tandem. It is expected Zenyatta will chase _him_ down to the end of the world, but there must be nothing that can lead Talon back to Hanzo. It is the only way they can keep this up.

Hanzo is waiting for him in a seedy motel. The rooms have the bare minimum, dirty floors and dirty sheets on a thin, hard mattress, but Zenyatta has no need for it and Hanzo has other things in mind, certainly not sleep.

It shows in the deep bags under his eyes, and age lines more pronounced now than they were a year ago.

“They have sent him to assassinate this man.” Hanzo pushes a folder in front of Zenyatta, and he silently reads it. They never use digital files, because Talon has the means to track those, but paper can be disposed of. When Zenyatta finishes reading –the name is of a benefactor, highly influential, highly corrupted– he crumples the dossier, and Hanzo lights it on fire.

They both watch the paper burn between them until all that is left is charred ashes, which Hanzo carefully brushes off the table and into a small, sealed bag. Nothing to leave behind.

“Do you think you can do it?” Hanzo always asks that, every time, and every time Zenyatta simply nods, and places one hand on his shoulder.

Hanzo leans into the touch for a fraction of a second, accepting the comfort for what it is before he straightens his back and the worried face is hidden behind his mask once again.

Zenyatta hums, deep in his synth. “As always. I welcome adversity.”

***

He moves in the shadows, footsteps making no sound as he dashes past the garden, over the guards patrolling outside, over the angry, dozing dogs and the guard-bots with their lasers ready to fire. The alarms pass over him and do not detect him, his body upgraded with Sombra’s strongest hacking virus, and the Blade Slayer slips unnoticed into the compound, merging with the shadows.

The studio is empty, save for a figure sitting in front of the fireplace, his back turned to the window. The Blade Slayer’s eyes adjust to the low light, and he advances.

He slides his sword out of its sheath like he was born for it –and he _was_. He has no other purpose but this, and he will succeed, his orders strict, compelling him, mind blank if not for the single purpose around which all his body tenses, muscles bulging, sword raised–

“I was waiting for you, Genji.”

The Blade Slayer freezes, body turning into stone, and the chair turns around.

On it, not his target, but–

That omnic. The one belonging to OverWatch, the one who insists on giving him a name, on calling him with warmth in his tone, on addressing him as if they are friends, acquaintances, l–

“Where is Raoul?” he hisses.

“Safe.” His tone shifts curiously into dislike. “Away from you.”

“You thwarted my mission again, omnic. How many times do I have to raise my sword on you, for you to stop?”

“Perhaps once more, if you truly mean to use it on me.” the one called Zenyatta stands up, and the Blade Slayer backs away from him, feeling cornered for no reason. The room is almost constricting around them, and he wants to leave, but his feet are rooted in place. “Yet you do not, and thus, I will continue.”

The Blade Slayer does not answer, nor does he care to linger on the truth of those words, he simply sheathes back his sword, and takes out a small knife from his side. The curve of the blade flickers with electricity –the perfect weapon to use against an omnic… against _this_ omnic. Maybe this time, he will be able to finish this job, though not ordered by any superior of his. “I will have the last words,” he hisses. “You will stop coming between me… and my job.”

He darts forwards, blade stretched out in front of him, and they fight.

Neither care to be loud, now –the assassination’s been stopped, they know he’s there. All that matters now is the omnic in front of him.

He slashes into the air, and floating orbs chime and stop the blade, electricity fading against their surface. They are both fast but in different ways, and they take advantage of that. They clash, back down, roll around the room, too small for this sort of play, but the Blade Slayer easily forgets about everything in the heat of the moment, enough that his core almost beats faster due to the excitement of the chase.

This could last a long time, with them fighting, clashing, coming against one another, and the Blade Slayer does, in a way, enjoy the challenge even with these limitations, but more than that, he hates it. Hates the way his core and heart rate accelerate, as if his body feels something more than his brain does. Hates how sometimes he can predict what the omnic will do, out of some kind of familiarity grown out of countless other battles, even though they might have encountered one another countless times, but they only fought twice before.

An orb smashes into the Blade Slayer’s side and he hisses in pain, dulled by how little he can feel, but still enough to make him falter.

The omnic does not take advantage of that, but throws a punch against his face, which he avoids as he strikes again, landing a heavy hit. He feels metal bend under his fist, and the omnic makes a soft, wounded sound.

The Blade Slayer feels nothing –no satisfaction, no pride, nothing. This is not one of his mandatory kills, and harming this omnic means nothing except taking one of Talon’s troublesome enemies down, but… but.

The omnic tilts his head towards him, and though his face does not change, cannot change, the Blade Slayer feels his stare like a weight, full of something he cannot name.

He takes a step forwards, knife raised to find the omnic’s throat, sever the wires connecting it to his head, finally get rid of this damaged, annoying opponent, electricity crackling on the surface of the blade…

His body stops.

Against all of his demands, his brain grunting in strain, his body refuses to move closer.

“Will you not harm me, Genji?” after the silence of their battle, his voice startles the Blade Slayer, yet he still does not move. “Were you not convinced you would finally slay me?”

“Shut up. You are unworthy of my blade.”

“Am I? Or… ” the omnic pauses, hums. “… are you unable to? Perhaps… something is telling you not to?”

“Nothing is telling me anything, except that I wish you gone, _forever_.” His core, his heart, burn. It is anger, surely, at this failure. Not anything else. He is _above_ anything else.

“Your body remembers. It remembers our sparring sessions, and it remembers me. You might not, right now, but… your body _does_.”

The Blade Slayer’s fingers tremble –it is too minute to notice by the omnic but he does, and he hates it. Hates the weird fraction of a second where his control shakes, where he feels something threatening to attack him from behind, where nothing is.

Clenching down on the knife, the Blade Slayer steels himself, rips his body out of this frozen lull, and takes a step forwards, even when something inside him is fighting his every move, but above it all, he wants this to end –this lack of control scares him, it…

A window shatters, and something long and thin snaps between him and his prey, embedded two inches into the floor of the office. It is…

An arrow.

The Blade Slayer tenses, eyes moving away from the omnic and to the broken window. The night outside reveals nothing, but the weird, stale aura of the room is broken, and he stumbles backwards, graceless but with a new purpose now.

“You are lucky,” he growls, sheathing his knife again. “You will live yet another day, omnic.”

“I will live another day so I can save you, Genji.”

“That is not my name.”

“It might not be the name you can wear now, but it belongs to you, and like an old mantle, it will wait for you to come back to it. I will go nowhere, until you are back with me…” the omnic moves his optical receptors to the window. “… and I am not the only one.”

“Tsk.”

Then he is gone, jumping out of the window, the omnic forgotten behind him.

He failed his mission, and that is the only reason he feels unsettled, upset and robbed of something.

Nothing else.

 


End file.
